


Caught

by thewingedoctopus



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: F/F, zearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4551636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewingedoctopus/pseuds/thewingedoctopus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire hadn't thought her new assistant to be her right fit at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-ed by Grace and Ezra,  
> Rated T for swearing,  
> Thoughts are always appreciated!

* * *

 

_**\- But it's hard to see it when you're in it**_

_**Cause I went blind for you -** _

 

* * *

 

She figured, as she watched the incessant line rise and fall only to rise again, that she should have heeded the warnings she'd been given by the paleontologist who'd called her years ago, when she'd asked for advice. And the paleobotanist. And the chaos mathematician.

But she'd panted and salivated at the idea of genetically engineered prehistoric reptiles, just like any other child had as they'd added play-doh to make shapes on their pre-formed plastic animals. But she hadn't been a child, only a business major straight out of an Ivy League that now seemed so far-fetched and skewed for someone as important as her, a business major with dreams bigger than she could ever have slept for.

And now she stared at her mistakes bright as red on her face thought it wasn't her who'd bred crimson so profusely or who was now lying in a hospital bed, heart beat beeping next to her cold, lifeless, body.

She didn't know (or maybe, didn't want to know) how long it'd been. She just knew that she hadn't taken a shower in her own bathroom in more than a dozen days, and that the sky blue shirt that clashed with her hair wasn't hers. She knew the nurses whispered about the redhead that wouldn't leave the ICU, knew how she looked when she started waving her ID around and yelling she was allowed to be where she was, knew about the little girl inside who just wanted to sink to the floor in exhaustion and confusion and fright.

The raven-haired woman at her side had escaped near death, had been clawed at and bit at and had drowned only to be resuscitated with little electrical shocks to her heart that weren't so little after all, burn marks etched on her chest and her ribs broken in six places, not all from a winged terror's beak. She'd been knocked from a place that was lower than personal assistant and coffee go-getter and walking calendar.

Of all things, of all humiliating things,

Zara Young had bed rash.

She'd spent too long on her mattress and in her sheets though they were changed for clean ones during her baths, her sagging body sponged down from a cold sweat and pus, scars lotioned and bandaged again and again.

And Claire could do nothing but watch.

And Claire was going mad.

With worry and with hurt and fright and shame and self-blame.

She paced the hospital room now, heels forgotten by her chair and feet padding on the linoleum floor through her tights. Tights that didn't fit her especially well but then again, without Zara acting as her shadow, nothing ever truly fit.

OOOoooOOO

_The first time she saw those piercing pale green eyes it was off of a photograph, the woman's head shot attached to her resumé by a hastily added paperclip, and Claire had thought Zara to be a ridiculous name. She'd reached for the paper shredder at the end of her desk, dragged it across as she kept her eyes locked on that unending gaze that watched her no matter which way she turned the paper, the woman's smirk growing the longer she stared. She'd turned the machine on, watched the last hopeful's remnants sputter out the other end and hovered the file's contents above it while planning to keep the manila folder it had been received in, but she'd paused. And finally relented, those eyes too triumphant to let go of, to put the papers in a safe place for further use._

_She wasn't sure now there had been a smirk to even find._

_It took her another week to realize she'd left the girl there at the bottom of her top drawer, amid a pile of candy wrappers (she'd told herself she needed to eat proper lunches but then again, this was why she was searching for a personal assistant, wasn't it? To remind her to eat?), and she'd pulled her out and splayed her out on her white desk, biting the inside of her cheek as she went back to work and left her there to imprint on her space. It wasn't all bad. She'd forgotten her there in being so comfortable, a stain in her otherwise spotless workplace, when she'd turned to stare at something else that shone at the corner of her eye._

_It wasn't until she'd missed a meeting completely, too engrossed in figures and numbers and goddamned acronyms, that she'd picked up her landline and sent in the request to have the young British woman flown out to Costa Rica. Masrani had been amused at her faux-pas, she hadn't been, her gaze flitting between him and the picture's eyes as she put in the call._

_She'd try her out and wear her out like so many others before her, but at least she'd have an assistant for a week or two, and maybe a completed schedule for the month._

_Her wall of employees was getting crowded._

_The ship's ramp slid up and down the dock as it rocked on choppy waves slapping at its sides, and Claire waited with her hands knotted before her and with her hair in a tight ponytail against the sea's winds. She didn't normally venture out this far unless she herself was leaving the island (which she never did) but it was a recreational day at the park, one of the year's only vacation days, and so she'd dared make the trip down to the wharf. The place was horrifyingly empty and was doing nothing to soothe her frayed nerves, the thought of an empty and skeletal, diseased, estate making her head spin. The guard next to her was stoic and she found no refuge in him._

_She was annoyed that the woman was taking so long in coming down from the boat when no one was there to push her out of the way, headed for a first look at the gates. Skinned knees and bumped heads were not new to Claire when it came to the entrance, but now only wind ran past and she shifted her weight._ This was a bad idea.

_It was another minute before she finally heard the tell-tale sound of wheels on clean white floors and she gazed up the ramp, eyebrow slightly raised as laughter followed the awkward squeaking, something between amusement and carelessness._

_Slightly shorter than she was, Zara Young still cut a demanding figure as she stepped onto the ramp, the ship's captain escorting her out into the humid Central American air with a wide grin and a protective, condescending, hand on her hip. It slid towards her back, the bottom of her spine, but she didn't move to remove it. The woman's sunglasses were perched on her nose despite the sun having disappeared behind angry looking clouds and she accompanied the man in laughing momentarily, her own voice carrying better on the breeze. Her clothes weren't as whimsical as Claire had previously thought they'd be and they clashed when the British woman finally stepped down onto the docks, off-white mixing awkwardly against an emerald green blouse. The captain gave a wave to Claire, a tip of his hat to Zara, and he was back aboard his cruise liner, a lingering eye on them both._

_The woman sighed as she pushed her sunglasses up into dark hair, and the redhead was staring into those pale eyes that had haunted her into finally making a decision._

_In a fit of authority, Claire cleared her throat. "You're late," she offered._

_"I'm not, your ship is." The British girl extended her hand out and Claire met her in the middle, finding her grip deceptively strong and sure. Her accent caught the redhead off guard and she almost broke into a delighted smile but her new assistant's reproachful tone was just enough to stop her. "But it always is when there's a pretty girl on board, isn't it? Zara Young, it's a pleasure to meet you."_

_"Welcome to Isla Nublar, Miss Young. Claire Dearing, Senior Assets Manager. How'd you know?"_

_Zara threw her a cheeky smile, her dimples showing, and Claire wasn't able to tell if it bordered on insolence or if it was her natural grin. She silently asked the guard to pick up the woman's luggage before turning on her heel, Zara following closely with one hand tight around her cellphone as they boarded an empty tram into Claire's only child._

_Jurassic World._

_The ride was quiet, nestled on silencers she'd had installed for comfort though it wasn't her domain, and the gates opened a hundred meters off as torches came to life. Effects, she thought, she'd asked to be turned off for the day._

It takes seven seconds for someone to make an impression.

_"We've been open since 2005," Claire began. The sign passed overhead and the doors began to close in on them as she continued. "And I've been here since it's infancy. Not John Hammond's first Park, mind you, but World."_

_Zara gave her a noncommittal grunt, a tranchant nod of her head. She was listening. Claire began to list off in her head._

Show you handle the situation.

_"The park comprises of its paddocks, an aviary, the gyrosphere valley and its adjacent safari, and a lagoon that houses our mosasaurus." She turned to give Zara a quick smile, as if the fact overjoyed her, but it failed and she knew she looked more condescending than anything else. "There's a live feeding every two hours. Attached we have the visitor's center and the children's area, the hotels and their malls and restaurants." She was naming them off professionally, in tune with every attraction they whizzed past._

_"Gift shops?"_

_"You can purchase stuffed dinosaurs, yes." She shifted her gaze to the jungle, not missing a beat. "We've got local fauna thriving here, as well as prehistoric plant hybrids that were engineered by our chief geneticist, Dr Henry Wu, back in 1997. We've got a hiking trail for the nature lovers, highlighting the botany available on the island." She spared a look at her own heels. "There is, of course, a tour available for those interested in science and genetic engineering inside the laboratory."_

Show you master your element.

_"Of course."_

_The tram came to a slow turn and Claire stepped up to the glass, inches from pressing her nose into it, fingers displayed on the surface. Her spine finally relaxed somewhat as she anticipated and waited for what she'd created and signed off on all on her lone self to appear in the distance. Her first, true, project as senior manager. The cage's skeleton was quickly becoming evident though construction was halted for the day. Pride overtook her and a genuine smile crept onto her features._

_She motioned Zara closer._

_"This, Miss Young, is our greatest asset. Our newest attraction. A rather large secret in a rather tiny box," the redhead breathed, voice a hushed whisper. "The Indominus rex." She glanced back at the woman, finding pale green eyes on the horizon. They turned to her, narrowed. "The Untamable King."_

Reel them in.

_She began to recite almost giddily. "A cocktail of giganotosaurus, majungasaurus, carnotaurus, rugops, therizinosaurus, Tyrannosaurus rex, and velociraptor. With cuttlefish and tree frog, for it to adjust to Isla Nublar's temperatures." She looked back at the paddock. "It's got a few advantages," she added, flexing her fingers._

_She didn't turn to see if Zara had understood, taking the silence instead as a token that she'd kept the girl's attention. They thundered back into the forest and her view was cut off by greenery._

_There was a vibration and a short ringing noise and she turned, surprised, when her gaze fell to the phone in Zara's hand. The woman's face stayed passive as she unlocked it and began scrolling, gaze underneath a light scowl she seemed to perpetually wear as the redhead looked on, defeated._

Reel them out?

_"Dinosaurs, Miss Young," Claire repeated, exasperated. "Hybrids." Perhaps she'd been too hasty in reading through her resumé. "Once extinct creatures bred in captivity and sharing the same air as us. Walking amongst us. Aren't you interested at all?"_

_"I'm not here for them," the raven-haired woman answered easily. She glanced back down at her phone. "And you sent me the brochure."_

_"Miss Young-"_

_"I appreciate the tour, Miss Dearing," Zara said, eyeing where the paddock had just been visible. "But you have a presentation in fourty-three minutes and you don't have your notes printed out yet. I wouldn't mind if you moved on to the personal assistant part of Jurassic World."_

_Claire opened her mouth, sudden anger flaring through her as Zara waited almost impatiently, unnerved that she herself didn't remember anything about a presentation and a little miffed at the girl's bluntness, but she closed it quickly as she looked away, blue eyes bright._

_She'd sent her schedule ahead of time. With the brochure._

_She shook her head, a smile threatening to tug at her lips. She didn't let it. "Well look at that, Miss Young. You might just make employee of the month."_

OOOoooOOO

"No, you don't understand, I _know_ I'm not her legal guardian, I'm-Yes, I know that too. No, her parents can't come it's too-Sir, do not put me on hold I swear to God-"

The line went slack, beeping angrily in her ear.

Claire let out a heady sigh as she threw her phone onto the armchair and she passed her hands over her face, pressing into her eyelids until she saw white shapes swimming in the inky blackness. Her ears began to whistle as she contemplated digging her palms a little farther into her eyes. It became a continuous roar.

She ripped her fingers away, vision hazy as she glanced over at Zara, breathing still in her oxygen mask. Her chest hadn't moved of its own free will in too long, and Claire watched now as it rose and fell in a steady cadence. It wasn't matching her heartbeat.

She was fine, in all aspects of the word, if not for the scars and the organs she'd had transplanted when she'd first arrived in the emergency room. Everything was in working order now. The grooves in her body would never heal and she had blood tracing through her veins that wasn't hers, but everything was working.

But she slept.

She grabbed at her phone almost angrily, snatching it off the chair's leather, nails raking a terrible sound, and she winced as she looked to Zara, afraid she'd woken her. The woman didn't stir, machine breathing for her survival, but Claire still didn't dare gasp for air.

She traced her way to the girl's bedside and fetched her charger from her purse, attaching it to the wall and waiting until her cellphone had beeped before falling back into her chair, suddenly exhausted as she passed her gaze over Zara. She pressed it to her ear, cord dangling in the negative space between her and the wall, as she called InGen. She'd ignored them for too long now. As if an afterthought and as the line rung, she stretched forward to the nightstand and grabbed at the woman's own phone to check the battery.

Ninety-eight percent.

OOOoooOOO

_"You don't care, so why should they?"_

_Zara looked up, her fingers stilling against the file cabinet's cold exterior, and she breathed in deeply, something stunted, before twisting to look back at her boss as she continuously glanced through manila folders, a never-ending growing pile of files. Though Claire neatly kept everything that could ever matter and that certainly didn't (A clean ratpack, Zara mused as she took in the office's gleaming sheen, a ratpack with a safety hazard for a closet), none of it was alphabetized. Much less organized into parcels. "Miss Dearing?"_

_Claire looked up, as if jolted from her thoughts and as if she hadn't been the one to speak, and she shook her head lightly. "I was just thinking; you were here your first day and you couldn't have cared less that you were nose to horn with a triceratops. You were on your phone. How am I supposed to keep anyone's attention if I can't even keep yours? Let alone twenty thousand people."_

_The raven-haired woman gazed back at Claire, stare unflinching as her eyebrows rose lightly at the redhead's sudden outburst, and finally her manager broke eye contact to let her head fall into her hands, her palms rubbing at her eyes as she blew air out forcefully, practically whistling._

_If there was something she'd let Zara know in the short month she'd spent on the island, it was that she rarely spoke when she worked, her office dead silent as she typed away on her laptop. She knew it'd puzzled her enigmatic assistant the first week, the woman slowly getting used to Claire carrying animated conversations by herself when she herself didn't reply in much more than monosyllables (which was too often), but here in her haven it was a mausoleum. Sometimes Claire let herself hum as she signed papers, sometimes she opened her windows and let dinosaur calls mixing with the noise milling visitors made wash over them, but she rarely spoke and much less in complete sentences. Claire Dearing was married to her work._

_And divorce was no option._

_She lifted her head, staring ahead with glassy blue eyes. "Maybe dinosaurs aren't the thing that excites anyone anymore. Maybe they're too common now," she added softly._

_Zara placed her stack of folders, an armful, into the chair across from Claire's desk as she walked back around to the front. "Maybe NASA's hiring," she suggested. "Though I have a very specific clause in my contract that specifies I only do part-time in space."_

_The redhead broke gaze with the wall and looked up, exasperated and maybe a little lost, and Zara shrugged her attempt at humor in an otherwise austere environment away. She leaned forward to pick up a first file._

_"The people who come here come for the attractions," her assistant continued. "I didn't. They'll be interested. They are. That's how you keep this place open."_

_Claire leaned back in her chair, openly sneering though it wasn't directly meant for Zara. "Miss Young, our numbers have fallen since 2013 and our shareholders are far less than happy, if this continues I'll be forced to-"_

_"You have that new animal, don't you?" Zara cut in. She watched confusion wash over Claire's face, watched her swallow, neither used to her talking back with such force. "The hybrid? I saw the reports, her cage's construction just finished Monday. You built her for this."_

_"The Indominus rex?" Claire waited until her assistant had nodded before shrugging dejectedly. "It killed its sister, Miss Young, do you know how terrifying that information is to a VP?It left its sister a mangled harness of meat in its cage. Wu tried to save her," she added after a moment. "But the blood transfusion didn't work, the animals in her DNA didn't all agree with their treatment. She went into shock." She looked back at Zara, breaking from her reverie, and her voice was hard. Bitter. "The Indominus might be too scary. What parents wants to bring their children to a cannibal's door?"_

_"The entirety of America's," Zara replied easily. "And she's prettier than Anthony Hopkins."_

_It took a moment for Claire to crack a smile, for her to relax and grin as she looked down and away, but when she did Zara mirrored it, letting her scowl slip away for a simple heartbeat before she began to flip through pages again, reading lightly as she walked back to the cabinet and placed it where it would belong. Claire glanced at her momentarily before beginning to type once more, her fingers flying fast over her white keyboard._

_"Zara?"_

_The girl glanced back over her shoulder, finding the redhead smiling sheepishly as she held up her mug._

_"Would you mind getting me some more coffee?"_

_"Of course not, Miss Dearing."_

_"Just black," Claire reminded her, looking back at her computer screen when the cup left her outstretched hand. She stayed still over her laptop. "Zara?"_

_The raven-haired woman turned, pausing with her fingers on the door as she looked into inquisitive blue eyes, eyebrows drawn in question. "Miss Dearing?"_

_"You'd follow me to space?"_

OOOoooOOO

_"We're late," Zara informed her, and Claire nodded as she walked out of her office, draping her jacket over her shoulders as her assistant stood from behind her desk and began to follow her, tablet and schedule in hand. "We have twenty minutes to get to the lagoon for that Vogue article, and then we have that speech at the World Wide Fund event." She swiped left. "And then we have to rush to the PETA press conference on the mainland. You have those apologies to give and I've taken the liberty of correcting your response draft. Though they'd rather watch you hang, if I can be candid."_

_"I'm not the one who made those comments in the first place," Claire replied. "Why target me?"_

_Zara's eyebrow raised. "Burn the witch?"_

_The redhead turned to give her a quick look as they took the stairs together, Zara a step behind as she read and walked at the same time, steps careful while the redhead bounded ahead in her high heels._

_"And then?"_

_"And then a meeting with Owen Grady, late afternoon."_

_"Owen Grady?" Claire echoed. "The name sounds familiar, but I cannot," she paused as she was passed by an engineer, Zara slowing behind her but not breaking her walk, "For the life of me remember who that is."_

_"Your new keeper. For the velociraptor paddock."_

_"Right, the InGen experiment. I was wondering when that'd come back to haunt me. Let it be known that I was coerced into signing." She glanced back at her assistant and waited a moment for her to catch up, looking over her shoulder at her calendar when their arms bumped. "Owen Grady, former Navy, behavioral research. Oh Miss Young, I'm terrible with names." She scrunched her nose and continued to trace through the building, but turned abruptly and the raven-haired woman, only inches shorter, threatened to smack into her. Zara looked up, surprised rather than scowling, clutching the tablet to her chest._

_"Miss Dearing?"_

_"Faces, those I remember. Every face I've seen. Every pair of eyes. But names are fickle. Why is that?"_

_Zara took some time to answer, tongue in cheek. "Some aren't memorable."_

_Claire took a moment to nod, staring into a pale-green gaze, and she finally turned away, thoughtful still. "Vogue?"_

_"Fifteen minutes."_

OOOoooOOO

"Shouldn't you be gone, Mr. Grady? Back in Palo Alto or something? Surely you've reports to turn in. To whoever's running the show now." She didn't mean to sound so bitter, but it was coming naturally now. Had she slept? "Why are you still here?"

The answer took a long time to come as the man paced the hospital room, hand falling from where it'd been placed on his mouth to his hip. He was trying hard to look as cocky as he usually felt, but now he felt more drained than anything as the machines hummed at his side. He jutted out his chin, voice wavering as he tried to speak. He cleared his throat. "I didn't know she looked this bad."

"She's fine," the redhead said softly.

"Will that scar heal? The one on her face?"

Claire didn't spare him a look as she gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, her grip on Zara's hand tightening. She pushed away the familiar burn behind her eyelids.

His voice came again, muffled. "I'm worried about you, Claire."

"Don't be. I don't need you to worry about me. I don't need anyone to worry about me."

He nodded but it was lost on her, and he began pacing again. "InGen's gonna have my ass."

"Mine first," she replied. "I'm Senior Assets. That was my creature. My signature on the permission form. To the world, you're a hero. To the world, I'm the one who opened the cage." She buried her face in the crook of her elbow. "I don't want to talk about InGen. I don't want to talk about the Indominus."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Do you always have to talk, Mr. Grady?"

"I find it releases tension. Stress. I think you need someone to talk to. I think you need to see the sun." He paused momentarily. "She's not going to answer you."

"You don't know that."

"No. I guess I don't."

But the silence she was so indebted to began to wear him down and he finally moved to the door, itching to leave the dying woman's hospital room. He turned back, the door inching open in front of him, his hand grasping the doorknob harshly. "If it means anything, Claire, I'm sorry. About a lot of things, but mostly this. This wasn't supposed to happen."

"A lot of things aren't supposed to happen," she rasped. "It's chaos mathematics." She laughed breezily. "But I should thank you, shouldn't I? Your creature found her. If it hadn't been running around free, it wouldn't have."

"That she did," he aquiesced, looking away. "Blue did."

She looked up suddenly, and he noticed she hadn't even tried to put on mascara that morning. "Do you pray, Owen?" she asked softly.

His jaw was tight as he ruminated. "Not usually."

"Could you start?"

OOOoooOOO

_"Pray for me, will you?"_

_The request was odd and it showed when Zara glanced up sharply, fingers stilling on her phone's screen as her features hardened and as she watched her boss step into her high heels, Claire's tongue sticking out momentarily as she looked herself over in her floor length mirror._

_She'd chosen a royal purple dress, a color she'd read would go well with her rather fantastic hair, and it amazed her, as she stepped this way and that, how pale she still was even though the sun was ever present on Isla Nublar._

_She hadn't dared take the time to leave her office to change, not with the work she had, and had instead opted to use her adjacent bathroom (a feat of construction in itself), pulling Zara away from her desk and inside with her after having asked her to fetch the dress from the dry cleaner's, though Zara was sure she hadn't worn it since the last time she'd gone to fetch it._

_For whatever reason, she wanted to look good for her date with Owen Grady. Maybe it was that she hadn't gone out in a while, was that she felt like a novice all over again though she'd had a boyfriend in high school and another in college. Why she wanted to impress the keeper was beyond her._

_The idea didn't seem to enchant Zara as much._

_Her assistant scratched at the side of her nose as she let her gaze slide back to her phone, as if willing her reaction away, and she moved to lean back on the door. "If you'd like me to. Why am I praying?"_

_"He seems coarse."_

_"Does he?"_

_"I just hope he'll have manners."_

_"You know him better than me. And it's not hard to say no, if need be."_

_Claire's eyes tried to meet Zara's solemn expression in the mirror but the shorter woman wasn't looking at her, her scowl hard as she swiped left and right. "Ironic, coming from you."_

_"How so."_

_"You're already with someone. You said yes."_

_To this Zara looked up, pale green eyes tumultuous, and Claire found it hard to not look away as her joke fell horribly flat. Zara waved her phone at her._

_"You look like Daphne. From Scooby-Doo."_

_Claire smiled. "The bitchy character?" She didn't wait for confirmation to turn around. "Apart from that, how do I look?"_

_"Stunning, Miss Dearing."_

_"You're not even looking."_

_Zara gave her a clipped sigh before trying to cover it with a cough, Claire's eyebrows having raised teasingly. "Stunning," she repeated. "And I'm praying."_

_Claire tugged her dress down a little, smiling brightly. "You're very sweet." She grabbed her purse off the sink and began wiping the dry counter down, almost missing her assistant's own smile, though it was fleeting in the room's dim lights. When she turned, Zara's hand was already on the doorknob._

_"She wasn't bitchy. She knew what she wanted," the raven-haired woman said. "And that's not a bad thing."_

_The redhead preceded her in leaving. "I never said it was." She paused to turn off her laptop, rushed too little to simply pull the plug, and she waited for the screen to turn black as Zara turned off the lights. "Can I ask you a favor?"_

_"It's what I'm here for."_

_"As a friend, Miss Young."_

_Zara nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing as she hit the last switch, plunging them into darkness save the square of light from the hallway._

_"If I text you, find some way to get me out of there?" the redhead asked softly. Her assistant gazed her over before finally agreeing, and Claire let her spine relax, her shoulders falling inches. She looked away, suddenly bashful. "Oh, and drop that file on Lowery's desk, if you don't mind? The one with the tyrannosaurus paddock numbers. I know it's technically not office hours but, I forgot to give him the paper copy when I saw him today. And lock the building behind you?"_

_Zara almost laughed as she pulled Claire out of her office, the redhead barely noticing as she continued to ramble. Her assistant didn't mention the death grip she had on her hand, their fingers almost intertwined as she tugged her down the hallway. Where the redhead's courage, her intensity, had suddenly gone, neither knew. Perhaps she'd left it behind her office walls._

_It took some coaxing for Claire to finally leave the building, as if she'd caught Zara's doubt about her night out, and her assistant had thought she'd have to drop her off at the restaurant herself, check on them, remind the woman to leave a good tip, and kiss her forehead._

_Not that she's one to kiss foreheads, Claire mused._

OOOoooOOO

She'd given up, as her back had, her vertebrae. Countless, sleepless, nights on the armchair had wrecked her ribs, her spine feeling as if it'd collapse if she stayed any longer, but she wouldn't leave.

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she watched Zara breathe in and out. The doctors had taken her air mask off of her face and replaced it with tubes that invaded her nostrils, pulled down into her airways for maximum efficiency. Efficiency that, at any other time, she would have praised and looked at from every angle, a smile tugging at her lips. Now she could only look away, her fingers begging to reach up and tug until Zara coughed the apparatus back up. She sighed as she passed her hand through her hair and finally she stood, bones crackling beneath her skin and she winced visibly, though no one was there to see. She mumbled an apology to the darkness, a flush rising up her chest, and she crawled to Zara's side, settling herself over the covers and stretching out by the woman. She reached over to fix an errant curl but quickly retracted her hand, as if she'd been branded by the awkward cold that inhabited Zara's veins, so different than her hot blood. She pressed the side of her face into the mattress.

And finally slipped her arm over Zara's waist.

OOOoooOOO

_"No,_ I'm _sorry that you couldn't be moved enough to actually wear something decent!"_

_"Then I'm sorry you're so uptight! It's Costa Rica, not the fucking North Pole, Claire!"_

_The redhead let out a bark as she turned and began to walk away, fists swinging at her sides, but Owen Grady followed, a healthy red rising on his cheeks. He'd perhaps drunk a little too much._

_And perhaps, Claire hadn't taken it well._

_She struggled with her keys at the bottom of the apartment complex, the rings clinking together in the dead of night, the sound carrying, and she finally threw the door open, ignoring that he caught it and followed her inside._

_"You have to relax, Jesus! This is a date," he laughed. "You're supposed to relax."_

_"Mr. Grady!" The redhead turned and he came to be nose to nose with her. "I don't quite appreciate the tone you've used with me all evening or the way you've behaved. Which was, and I'm being kind, callous." She rounded him and called the elevator with the flat of her palm._

_He scoffed as he entered after her. "We were having conversations, Claire-"_

_"Miss Dearing."_

_"Oh for fuck's sake, do board shorts really piss you off this much?"_

_"Keep your voice down, Mr. Grady, people are sleeping," she hissed. "And if you must know, your conversations are dull and one-sided. One-sided because there's quite literally nothing I can add, your opinions and views are-"_

_"Different than yours?"_

_"Impossible to deal with."_

_"Only because you're so narrow-minded, a one-track mind that's on a one way railroad track hurling towards self-destruction," he spit back, but there was that ever-constant grin tugging at his lips. "You gotta live a little! Let your hair down, open your jacket, and take off your heels. Don't be the bitch everyone says you are."_

_Claire turned and he smacked into her open palm, at arm's length from her. Her jaw tight, she spoke softly. "That's quite enough, Mr. Grady. This is a professional environment, and this," she motioned between them, "Was a mistake. Don't take it as anything else from now on, is that understood?"_

_"Oh, don't worry." He smiled, but it was too close to bitterness for her taste. "I'm staying very far away from your bubble. I don't think I'd fit beside your ego, anyway."_

_She opened her mouth, the accusation scandalous and a reply burning on her tongue, but he'd already turned and left for the stairs, and she was fuming. She paced back and forth for a moment as she muttered to herself, but finally she marched to the end of the hallway, to the last door on the left. She went to knock, quick little raps like she was used to, but the door opened and her knuckles fell on air, and she stared._

_Zara didn't quite dress at night like she did during the day, her pajama shirt two sizes too big over a pair of shorts that, in any other situation, Claire would never have seen. She was gazing up, her eyebrows raised as the redhead looked her over._

_"Miss Dearing."_

_"Zara, I'm sorry I-," Claire looked back behind her, down the hall. "I just got into a, an argument and-"_

_"I heard."_

_"Oh."_

_"I think everyone heard."_

_"_ Oh _."_

_She turned and her bright blue eyes met Zara's pale green ones, paler at night it seemed, and there was a moment suspended in air before the raven-haired woman sighed and cracked her door open wider as she relented and gave in and the redhead slipped into her room. "You should have texted," Zara murmured._

_"And let him win at one of his petty games!" Claire placed her purse into the nearest armchair as her assistant watched from the door, keys in hand. She began tugging at her dress, trying too hard to relieve herself of the constricting material, before finally letting out a whimper and letting her arms dangle helplessly at her sides. She looked to Zara, smiling though there was no joy behind it. "Would you-?"_

_Her assistant shook her head but she was at her back in a moment, fingers undoing the clasp at the top of the woman's spine. "Are you alright?"_

_"No, he's-God, he was worse than I thought he could be. Than I thought anyone could be." She shifted. "Unicolor shorts. That's acceptable. Not something with big, contrasting, flowers."_

_Zara glanced down at her own ensemble, the candy cane striped colors on her thighs. "Where did he take you?"_

_"Does it matter?"_

_"No. And?"_

_"And, I don't know. We didn't get past the appetizer." Claire looked back at her assistant. "He was hitting the shots already. How do you do it?"_

_Zara glanced up, eyes steeled. "Do what?"_

_"Like someone enough to be with them." Claire turned back to watch the wall, the mirror. "Sorry," she offered. "I just, I find it amazing that you can keep a relationship, so far away from everything. So into your work as you are."_

_"I'm amazed you can't," Zara replied. She reached for Claire's zipper at the base of her neck and began tugging down._

_"I'm not a multitasker like you."_

_"No, you are. You just need someone to remind you to be, once in a while."_

_Claire flushed lightly when the dress began to pool around her chest. She held it up as Zara struggled with the zipper's end. "What's his name, anyway?"_

_Zara looked up, her gaze barely showing over her boss's shoulder. "Who."_

_"Your boyfriend." Claire waved her hand vaguely. "Fiancé."_

_"You're stuck, Miss Dearing."_

_"Hmm, what?" "Stuck. Your dress is stuck. I can't get it undone."_

_Claire sighed. "I'll sleep in it then." She turned abruptly. "I'm so sorry, it's late and I impeded on your down time with something that was utterly not professional and definitely not marked down in your contract."_

_"This," Zara paused. "This counts as me being friendly." She finally shrugged, dismissing it. "Even if it feels like babysitting."_

_The redhead gave her a shy grin before leaning in and hugging her, something that had Zara's spine arching delicately as she hovered her arms around the woman, unsure of what to do. She let her hands make contact with soft skin and she shuddered out a breath. Claire pulled back quickly._

_"I should go, let you sleep."_

_Zara watched her, stammering. "It's late. You're nowhere near your place."_

_"The park is secure." Claire was confused, cocking her head to the side. "No one's waiting to get me in the dark."_

_"You have that meeting at nine. You won't get enough sleep if you leave now."_

_The redhead nodded slowly. "You make a convincing point, Miss Young."_

_"There's fresh linen in the guest bedroom, Miss Dearing."_

_The pajamas didn't quite fit her, barely reached her ankles, but the silk was a welcomed feeling when Claire managed to crawl out of her dress, leaving it on a hanger by the door. And the sheets smelled like Zara did, a hint of lavender in a sea of freshness. But she couldn't quite fall asleep, her arm behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling, heart racing as her night swirled around her._

_She wondered if Zara had questioned why she'd even been in her apartment complex in the first place._

OOOoooOOO

Claire jolted awake, her phone buzzing on the nightstand, and she took a moment to bite away the exhaustion that had left a bad taste in her mouth, the shame as she woke by Zara's side, and she pushed it down before finally turning off her alarm, hazy eyed still. She wouldn't look up yet, her heart hammering between her ribs as she fought to keep breathing. She reminded herself she wouldn't find Zara watching her when she did, a light scowl tainting her features like always, mouth turned down at her restriction to a bed, though at any other time she wouldn't have minded the sleep.

When she finally had the strength, the courage, it didn't surprise her to find closed eyelids. Though it did drag her heart down her spine a little more.

Zara slept on.

Claire stood and slipped into her shoes and after taking her assistant's phone with hers and pressing a kiss to the woman's forehead, her eyes closed against bitter tears, dragged herself out into the hallway.

A skimmed latte, on mornings like these, was too good to wish for, and she'd settle on a vending machine's black sludge, disgustingly reminiscent of Zara's own coffee though the tastes were vastly different. She drank slowly, the liquid burning hot and devoid of taste, as she gazed over a waiting room she'd practically memorized over the last weeks. There she'd been pushed back by a rather violent doctor as Zara had been wheeled in, trailing blood on the floor from the helicopter to the ambulance to the emergency room, there she'd sat while they'd operated on her, twenty-four hours passing before she heard any news. The prognosis hadn't been bad, but it'd been far from good. There she'd cried.

And here she stood, nine oh five sharp, with a cup of bitter coffee in her hands and two phones in her pocket.

No one had called Zara since the incident. No one had left her a message, written or spoken. While Claire's phone rang off the hook almost constantly, forcing her to turn it off hours at a time so that she could think, Zara's stayed silent. For a woman attached to her machine, it threw Claire off, her throat constricted even now as they both rested against her hip.

She jumped lightly when her phone began ringing, coffee splashing over the sides of her styrofoam cup as she cursed, something she'd never have done in any other circumstance. She wanted to speak of devils to those sitting feet from her, waiting on being called themselves, but instead she threw her beverage into the nearest trash can and fumbled to stand in a corner where service was better. Where if push came to shove, she could cry without being noticed.

It was a hospital. She, Claire Dearing, could cry, couldn't she?

Her sister's voice was too cheery for her and she answered her 'hello' with her own solid greeting, arms folded against her chest and sincerely hoping the line would drop out, too ashamed herself to just hang up.

The topic took a long time to come, but when it did in between two breaths she was firm in her answer.

"No."

" _Claire_ -"

"No, Karen, I don't want to come home. I don't need to come home. We talked about this and I told you, I'm perfectly fine." She glanced back over her shoulder fleetingly.

" _Mom and dad are worried_."

"Why?" Claire asked bluntly. "I'm fine, I had scratches and a bruise on my knee. I didn't even have a blister. So why does everyone care so damned much?" Her sister sighed on the other end of the line and she could see her passing her hand over her forehead, tired and exasperated and maybe a little angry. Angry that her younger sister was being as stubborn as she'd always been and angry that she was spending every ounce of herself caring for a woman who wouldn't wake up. Claire cleared her throat as she struggled to find some tact. "How are Zach and Gray?"

" _Terrified_ ," Karen answered, and finally her voice dropped out and Claire thought she could hear her lower lip trembling as she tightened her hold on her phone. " _Aren't you?_ "

It occurred to Claire as she searched for an answer that Zara's boyfriend (fiancé?) hadn't made an attempt to contact yet, and she fished into her jean pocket for her assistant's phone. The obvious lack of notifications had her slackening her hold lightly and she breathed out harshly.

"She's not dead yet."

OOOoooOOO

_"They don't taste the same as they do on the mainland."_

_Zara agreed with a nod of her head as she picked apart her muffin silently, the chocolate chips on one side of her napkin and the dough on the other as she made little mounds. Claire watched from her side of the desk, confused but amused as she finished the first half of her own, neatly cut down the middle by a butter knife._

_"It's hotter here," Zara finally offered. She sucked at her thumb, chocolate beneath her nail._

_"The ingredients mix differently?"_

_"I guess. I don't know." Her assistant frowned. "I don't cook."_

_Claire wanted to add that neither did she, but the woman across from her knew that. It wasn't the first time she'd fetched them a snack, or a lunch or a dinner. She reached forward and dusted at the crumbs on her desk, pushing them into the trash can at the bottom. Zara lifted her napkin, letting her pass beneath._

_It certainly wasn't the first time they ate breakfast, or any other meal, together, but Zara took Claire's vow of office silence seriously and the redhead found it endearing, watching the younger woman from over her coffee._

_The phone at the raven-haired woman's elbow beeped angrily and the redhead couldn't help her smile._

_"Boyfriend?"_

_Zara shrugged. "No, it's my battery. It's beneath ten percent."_

_"How do you work like that? I'd have a heart attack," Claire breathed, eyeing the phone._

_"I'd be dead by now if I worried so much about it. It's rarely over fifty. Do you want me to charge it? You look like you do."_

_"I'd rather you did."_

_Her assistant stood and fetched the cable from her purse as she sighed contently. When Zara sat back down she let her gaze linger on Claire beneath a heavy scowl, fingertips grazing chocolate away from muffin. The redhead stared back but didn't push her as she leaned back in her chair, her eyebrow raising softly as she drank._

_Zara breathed in tightly. "Why do you keep bringing him up, Miss Dearing?"_

_Claire blinked. "Who?"_

_"My fiancé."_

_"So he's your fiancé," the redhead echoed. She sat up. "You've been here closer to a year than six months, Miss Young, shouldn't we know each other better by now?" She cocked her head to the side. "Why won't you answer me about him?"_

_"Why should I?"_

_"Come on, Zara, it's just office gossip at this point, do tell! What's the first thing you noticed about him?"_

_Zara jutted her chin out. "What about you?" she challenged._

_"I have no one, I don't need anyone," Claire answered easily, waving her hand. "And honestly, you wouldn't have been here in the first place unless Masrani had gently threatened me. I didn't think I needed a P.A. I was going to push you aside as soon as you arrived and do my job myself. Try to do it myself."_

_"What stopped you." When Claire didn't answer, chewing her lower lip, Zara took a deep breath as she looked away. "Maybe I'm running away."_

_"Zara?"_

_"Taking the contract here? On the other side of the world? Maybe I'm fickle in my love life. Maybe," the woman paused and shook her head._

_"Maybe it's not my job to know?"_

_Zara nodded slowly._

_"Maybe I like having you around," the redhead finally said. "Contrary to popular belief."_

_"Popular belief?"_

_"I'm the bulldog, Miss Young, as Lowery has so kindly nicknamed me. I'm scary and I work alone. It's what I do. It's what I've always done."_

_"That's not a bad thing, Miss Dearing."_

_Claire breathed in._

_"You could have lied to Masrani. You would have, we both know that," Zara started again. "About an assistant. He doesn't visit often. So why hire me?"_

_"Your resumé was," the redhead hid behind her mug, "Impressive."_

_"Bullshit."_

_Claire snapped her head up but couldn't let her laugh escape, Zara's gaze hard._

_"Why hire me?"_

_The redhead's nails tapped on her desk as she looked away, flushing. "Your eyes."_

_Zara fell back in her chair. "What?"_

_"I apologize, it's stupid. I just," Claire sighed. "I've told you before, I remember faces, and eyes and I just, couldn't forget you. You seemed important, for whatever reason. So I kept your file. And you are." She cleared her throat. "Important. To me."_

_"I like yours too."_

_Claire gazed up, eyebrows raised. "Pardon?"_

_"Your eyes."_

_"You do?"_

_"Why do you look so surprised?"_

_The redhead stammered, her hand around her cup shaking lightly. "I, people don't notice that about me," she admonished. "They notice I'm well versed and that I'm, that I'm scary, and that I'm always late, but I'm no blue-eyed beauty."_

_"They're the first thing I noticed, Miss Dearing."_

OOOoooOOO

"Ma'am, you have to leave, you're not allowed here anymore. We have no written proof she wants you here-"

Claire ripped her arm out of the nurse's grip, turning on her. "She's comatose, how the fuck would she give me permission to be here, do you think?"

"Ma'am, we're going to have to call security."

The redhead eyed her, her partner in the doorway who, admittedly, was bigger than her. "I'm allowed here."

"You're not her relative, we've gone over this."

"I'm her-" Claire stopped abruptly, the word 'boss' hanging on her tongue. "I'm her friend. I'm the only one here for her. I'm all she's got."

"Her parents have been contacted."

"How long ago was that?" she fired back. The nurse sighed heavily, shaking her head.

"Claire?"

Claire scowled and watched the nurse, surprised, close her mouth and run a hand to her throat to press delicately, the voice not hers. It came again, her name rasped out, and they turned abruptly.

Zara's fingers clawed at thin air and Claire fitted her hand into hers, crying out in joy when the woman pulled her forward to her. She pressed kisses to Zara's hair, holding her tight as her assistant groaned against her chest. The nurse was running out, calling for the doctor.

"Bloody hell, you make a lot of noise still," the girl muttered. She struggled to sit up, knuckles white, as Claire cried silently against her. She shifted away when Zara pushed her lightly, but the hand around her collar kept her close. Her fingers traveled down over her chest, her shoulder. "I can't see, Claire."

They were clean now, her eyes, the blood that had crusted black washed out of them and the scar running from her jaw diagonally up to her forehead, and Zara looked up with cloudy blues, grasping at her forearm.


End file.
